who is in control?

goddamn right you should be scared of me.

[rebclswithoutapause]

peacefullyviclent‌:

Not as small as it used to be. August thought about the words, allowed them to sink in. In his line of work, he had the chance to watch it happen as people arrived and businesses opened and closed. The woman seemed to reminisce of a simpler time, and there was a part of him that thought she could have come from some tiny town where everyone just happened to know one another. He had heard New Orleans was once like that, but not anymore. And not for a long time. “Do you miss it? I mean… That time?” He found himself uttering the question out loud, not even sure why he’d done it.

As the subject veered towards her beverage of choice, August thought it was peculiar, and it merely served to put more queries and conjectures inside his head. “Please feel free to take a seat,” he made an ample gesture towards the place before getting a spot on the line to place their orders. He couldn’t quite remember when was the last time he had done something as trivial as that.

A few minutes later, August placed a small plastic tray on the surface of what was a somewhat sticky table. “Tea for the lady,” he announced, moving that side of the tray towards her. “And I thought you might enjoy some biscuits to go with it.”

“At times I do,” she admitted. On one hand, she missed being surrounded by people who knew the truth about who she was and her situation. On the other hand, she was a basic stranger and had the chance to start completely over until her magic returned. She felt that same tug to be near him that she always had. This was what she had wanted to avoid with the fail-safe; the underlying awkwardness. 

Her fingers brushed over the damp skin on the back of her neck, where her short strands now took the place of her long hair. Emerson missed the modesty of her long dresses. Women wearing pants and showing off their figures? Unheard of. Yet it wasn’t her place to comment. 

Golden-brown eyes zoomed in on the paper cup with the string poking out of the lid and her brow furrowed.

What on Earth? she wondered, yet she forced herself to pull the look of confusion off her face. If she was to blend in with this modern society, she needed to act as these women acted. If it meant drinking tea as they did, she would. Yet she couldn’t control the expression on her face as she prized off the lid of her cup to see the strange contraption containing her tea. Common sense told her to not touch the tea bag. Bohe-Tea was far more commonplace, it appeared. The person behind the counter hadn’t even blinked when August ordered it.

“Thank you. I appreciate it,” she informed him. She took a sip of the concoction and her eyes stretched wide. “Green tea?!” 

It was an expensive delicacy; nearly ten shillings a pound. The McCarthy family had saved it for upper-class company and servants were forbidden from sneaking a taste. The servants did, however. 

If green tea was commonplace here, Emerson had to reel in her shock. “I apologize for my reaction. It’s...not a common beverage from where I hail.”

[rebclswithoutapause]

peacefullyviclent‌:

“It seems as if this town is full of little coincidences such as that,” he pointed out, his head canting in the process. It was not the first time he had heard of something of the sorts, and, it was easier to believe the alternative of a coincidence than the sort of lore some other people seemed to talk about. “Besides, it is a fairly small town, I don’t think it’s impossible that our paths might have crossed somewhere else. Even if just… Briefly,” he amended, still having the odd impression that the two of them might have known one another.

Still, as he attempted to show her the phone, she seemed to react in an off-kilter manner that had him puzzled. Something about her demeanor exuded this kind of mystery and he wondered what could take to make her unravel. Spinning the cellphone between his thumb and forefinger, August allowed the device to hang between the two of them for a moment longer before making it disappear inside his pocket once more.

“You just…?” he questioned, his hazel eyes lowering to her as August pressed for what might continue that sentence. August wasn’t the sort of man who generally heard the word no, so, it only served to pique his curiosity - and other people rarely ever had that sort of effect on him. They were dull. Predictable. Boring. It normally did not take more than a couple of seconds to have them figured out. “…wanted some coffee, perhaps?” August added and a lopsided smile appeared on his lips.

Everyone in New Orleans was connected somehow. Emerson could easily recognize some names she had known from over two hundred years ago, yet no one knew hers but from a cautionary tale. She had been told by the council as to the full nature of what lies had been spread, that Serena McCarthy had died the martyr instead of murdering her fiance and sending his pregnant lover away. That Emerson and August had tried to kill her in order to be together. “Not as small as it used to be,” she submitted, though she doubted he would understand her full meaning. 

She couldn’t allow herself to be immersed in what could easily be a lie or a trick. Especially when Emerson knew what lied behind those hazel depths. She couldn’t allow herself to fall back into that when she didn’t know what was real, not when she still felt as though he recognized her. 

“Tea,” she stated. Black tea with milk and a lump of sugar, at least. Yet Emerson knew that people didn’t drink tea the same way she did. These cups appeared flimsy. 

[rebclswithoutapause]

I@peacefullyviclent​ (continued)

Perhaps she had been wrong and this wasn’t him. After all, doppelgangers had to exist? Perhaps he was simply her love’s descendant and bore an uncanny resemblance to the man she had known. After all, Emerson bore a strong resemblance to her father’s mother. An uncanny resemblance to her love didn’t necessarily mean that it was him. “It was a very long time ago. Seems like it was a different...lifetime.”

Her hand recoiled as if the strange object held the capacity to harm her. After all, without her magic, Emerson was as good as human. She couldn’t risk being injured or harmed in any way until her abilities returned and she could fix it. It was one thing if she could perform some sort of spell to see him for real. All she had was blind faith in them from two hundred and seven years ago. “It’s quite alright, I trust your word,” she informed this...impostor. It was on the tip of her tongue to say I trust you, yet she couldn’t. Not until she knew.

His offer of anything had her balking. Whatever this fashion was of this century had her acutely aware of eyes on her. The orange sundress clung to her like a second skin, much like a dressing gown instead of what she was used to. “No, no. I’ll be alright. I promise. I just....”